Draco Malfoy and Various Things that Happened
by girliedragon
Summary: R for a bit of language. A fic I found obscenely fun to write. DHr, naturally.
1. Default Chapter

Draco Malfoy was studying advanced arithmancy in the library. This was not usual behavior for him, but Madam Pince did not like him very much and refused to let him take out more than five books at a rime. As the ones he had were not doing him much good, he concluded that surrounding himself with textbooks would work better. He'd just gone through his work for the sixteenth time and was contemplating suicide to avoid academic ruin when Hermione Granger appeared out of nowhere. "You forgot to take the derivative of x as it relates to theta," she said, glancing at his paper. "Now go away, this is my table." Draco growled out of reflex. "I can sit wherever I want, Mudblood." Wait, no, that wasn't right. "I mean, I do apologize; can we not live in harmony?" Granger was looking at him oddly. "Well?" he asked.

"What the fuck, Malfoy," she said.

He blinked. "Dear me. I wasn't aware you swore."

She was glowering now; there was no other word for it. "All right, if it offends you nowwhat the hell, Malfoy? You aren't acting like yourself."

"On the contrary, my dear girl; I haven't acted like myself since the day I was born."

She appeared to be contemplating this. As he hadn't had a chance to explain it to anyone yet, he assumed she was eagerly waiting for him to continue.

"Recently, I realized that I've been rather...two-dimensional for most of my life. The real me has been suppressed. I am now engaging in an experiment to bring it out. Today I am being courteous and vaguely avuncular. Also, I wish to pass my NEWTs in arithmancy." She was taking this remarkably calmly. Didn't she realize his personality was at stake?

"All right," she said at last. "So you're having an identity crisis. F I help you with arithmancy, will you let me have the table back?" Without waiting for a reply , she sat down and tugged his paper out of his grasp. "See, you just need to change this to terms of theta. Then you'll be left with the integral of secant squared theta d-theta. In other words, the tangent of theta. Re-substitute x, calculate the values, and the answer is one. See?"

"Um," he said. "No."

The next day he was a loveable prankster, and discovered that people only liked it if it was a Weasley. Hermione Granger gave him detention and implored him to keep his dignity next time. He decided to be goth-punk.

"Oh dear god," she said when she saw him. "What?" he asked innocently. "I am one with the night, and I rock out. My new name is...actually, Draco works quite well, or maybe Drako. Maybe this is my identity."

"Goth maybe, because black leather suits you, and you look undead with that skin anyway - you know it's true, so don't gloat or pout - but for Merlin's sake, my sake, and humanity's sake bleach your hair out."

He blinked, mildly offended. "I don't think it's that bad. Anyway, it will wash out."

"Good. Pink isn't your color. And that jacket would look better on Blaise Zabini. You don't have the shoulders for studs and spikes in such copious amounts."

"I'm Draco - I mean Drako - Malfoy. How dare you question my shoulders?"

"You're not very good at this, are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

Right. Go away for months with no explanation and then update the one story nobody has reviewed. Brilliant plan.

* * *

"Hey Granger! Wait up!" She turned and waited. He'd skulked in the shadows until she'd shaken off her lackeys, of course. 

"What is it now, Malfoy?"

"I need to learn how to be a library-dwelling know-it-all for tomorrow."

She slapped his hand off her shoulder, but he ignored this.

"You don't need to be all that offended. It's true. Besides, you have no compunctions about pointing my faults."

"Maybe I'm practicing being a complete bitch today, did you think of that?" she snarled, turning and beginning to walk away.

"That time of the month?"

"Bastard."

"Come on, there isn't anyone else I could ask. The rest are just posers. They don't actually know anything."

"Fine, but you owe me."

Three teachers asked him if he was feeling all right. Snape said he himself had gone through a goth phase. Draco, despite Hermione's advice to question the teacher at every opportunity, did not point out that nobody would notice the difference. He did after all place some value on his life.

* * *

"Malfoy, I suggest you explain yourself." She was scowling at him from her chair, which looked sinfully comfortable. He'd have tried harder to be Head Boy if he'd known there were going to be chairs like that. 

"Well?"

"Um. Can I have your chair?"

"Is that supposed to be some kind of stupid innuendo? Because after today I really wouldn't be surprised. Do you know how many complaints I've fielded? Did you proposition every female in Hogwarts?"

"Some of them said yes. And don't worry, I wouldn't seduce you," he protested, shuffling a bit.

She assigned him three detentions for no good reason. Females were so temperamental.

* * *

To prepare for his Innocent Nice Guy day, Draco acquired some glasses that looked suspiciously like Harry Potter's. Clad in jeans and plaid, he sallied forth to face the wizarding world, Hogwarts, and Hermione Granger. 

Sitting on a desk in the Potions classroom, waiting for Hermione to show up and supervise his detention, he decided that there was absolutely no way his real identity would wear plaid and there was therefore no need for him to suffer anymore. Setting his wand on the table, he began to wriggle out of the shirt.

"Hey, Mal - oh holy hell what are you doing?"

"Not wearing plaid," he replied, slightly muffled.

"Put your shirt back on, Malfoy."

"Just let me -"

"Shirt, Malfoy."

"Plaid -"

"No, Malfoy."

"But -"

"Malfoy! Shirt! On!"

He wriggled back into the shirt and glared at her reproachfully.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm not the one who was stripping."

"_Plaid._"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. Why can't you just have normal crises like everybody else?"

Draco paused dramatically. "Because I am Draco Malfoy."

* * *

More to come, unfortunately. 


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you all for the kind reviews! Y'all don't know how much I appreciate it.

* * *

"Hey, Granger."

He could see her wince before turning around. It was rather uncalled for, he thought. After all, she had the unique opportunity to watch him emerge from his cocoon as a glorious butterfly, but with less feminine implications. Then again, given what he was planning...

He'd already been through American Surfer - "Malfoy, I swear I'll remove your kneecaps if you say 'Dude' one more time. And your accent is terrible." - Skater Punk - "Malfoy, no. Just...no." - and Indie Nerd - "Good God, Malfoy, do you know anything about music at all? You can't be indie with wizarding music, because wizarding music sucks."

"Malfoy, what do you want? I can't sit around forever waiting for you to talk."

"Um." It had taken him a while to reach this decision, because asking a native for tips on navigating her area of expertise was one thing, but enlisting her help in more general matters was another.

"Granger? What do you know about being gay?"

* * *

Half an hour later, he judged she was running out of steam. It was a good thing, too. He'd seen her mad enough to rant. He'd seen her mad enough to slap people. But he'd never seen her mad enough to transfigure her book into a whiteboard and make an outline. With bullet points. And a diagram. Entitled 'Homosexuality: Yet Another Victim of the Outdated Attitudes of the Wizarding World Today, or Why Draco Malfoy is a Complete and Utter Prat.' 

He suspected she would have made buttons for him to distribute if she hadn't wanted to transfigure the book back afterwards.

And she seemed to be pausing, so he took desperate advantage of it to interject, "I'm sorry! Okay! Just give me something else to be tomorrow, then!"

"Fuck, Malfoy..."

She exhaled, flopping back into her chair, and the whiteboard folded up with a sad 'shklop.'

"Just be yourself, yeah?"

Draco fought hard to keep from rolling his eyes. Had she not been paying attention at all?

"Granger, I do not know who I am. I have been repressed since birth by the responsibility inherent in my bloodline and my only-child status."

Her left eye twitched, which he took to mean 'I do not feel up to delivering another large-scale lecture right now' and was inordinately grateful for.

She started, "The nature versus nurture debate..." then stopped and shook her head. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand most of the terms anyway. Look, I'll talk to you later. I've got homework now."

Heading out the door, he turned to say, "Tomorrow lunch in the library good?"

"There's so much wrong with that syntax I don't know where to start. But yeah, okay."

"It's a date, then!"

From the hall, he could hear her half-hearted yell. "No it's bloody not!"

* * *

The entire morning he'd felt at a bit of a loss as to his personality. He'd mostly been quiet and uncomfortable through breakfast and his classes. Thus, when lunchtime rolled around he'd barely taken the time to grab a bite before darting off to the library. 

Hermione was already there - reading, of course. She looked up at his arrival. "Malfoy, when did I start sponsoring your crisis?"

"What? I don't know. Probably when you corrected my arithmancy homework."

"So it is my fault."

"Yeah, pretty much. So! Personality! Talk, woman!"

"I don't know why I do these things for you, I really don't, but I found a spell last night. It's supposed to reduce inhibitions."

He blinked. "It wouldn't by some chance be called 'alcohol,' would it?"

"No, you idiot. For one thing, it doesn't have any of the side effects; for another, it only affects those inhibitions cemented by your upbringing and society. That is, you'd act like you would if you didn't stop yourself."

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he tensed a bit nervously. "Would I still, you know, be in control?"

"What? Um, sort of, I guess. Look, it's really obscure and borderline illegal and I had to work very hard to find it and I will stuff it down your ungrateful throat if I have to."

He cowered a bit. "Can...can I have till tomorrow to research it for myself?"

"Very bloody well. Here, take the book. Page 1673. And for Merlin's sake, don't say the name out loud."

* * *

In the safety of his room, he examined the book. The spell itself was fairly simple; only a few components needed to be in place before the incantation could be spoken. 

Unfortunately, the effect it had was that he would act like a complete idiot for an hour.

Common uses for the spell included Forced Confession of Love (But That Never Works Out, So I Wouldn't Advise It Myself), Revealed Loyalties, and True Intentions, according to the footnote. So, how would he act?

Well, he didn't know. That was the point of this whole journey, wasn't it?

But was it worth it?

Get a fucking grip, he told himself. An hour of humiliation before Granger in exchange for a lifetime of self-fulfillment? Hesitation was not an option.

All the same, he fell asleep still trying to unknot the tangles in his mind.

* * *

You know, I really have no idea where this thing is going. But it should only be maybe one more chapter. 

Oh, I have a question for whoever cares - should I update whenever I finish another chapter of something, or update at a fixed point in the week with whatever I have?


	4. Chapter 4

I don't actually like this much, but oh well. It's something.

* * *

Hermione ate breakfast with him.

At the Slytherin table.

_Hermione Granger. _

_Slytherin table. _

Somehow Draco managed to be mostly nonchalant. But certain questions needed to be asked in the interest of self-preservation.

"Er...won't your friends come beat me up?"

She flashed him a sunny grin and chirped, "Nope! They're very concerned about you too, and they understand completely. I explained it to them."

He glanced across the hall, and Harry Potter waved to him. Ron Weasley blinked owlishly. There went his self-respect.

Surprisingly enough, none of his friends seemed to mind Hermione being there. She seemed to completely escape Crabbe and Goyle's notice, and apparently Blaise and Pansy didn't much care either way. Millicent was even on nodding acquaintances with her.

"So!" He flinched at the tone of her voice. It harbored doom beneath deceptively cheerful tones. "Are you ready to try out the spell?"

"Um. I guess." Draco felt a sharp twist of panic.

"We've got a while before classes start. We can do it now if you like, but I imagine you'd rather not perform in front of all Hogwarts."

A realization slowly rose through the murky waters of his consciousness: Those within earshot were staring, and occasionally giggling. And, oh Merlin, he felt himself blushing. Because of a bit of unconscious double entendre. Things used to be so much simpler when he was an arrogant Pureblood arse.

"Okay let's go now," he said very fast.

* * *

The library, of course. Hermione'd brought along a satchel that appeared to be stuffed with papers, which she set on a table and sat next to.

"Before we start, do you mind if we talk a little bit about your situation? You should try to be focused and relaxed for the spell, which you clearly aren't right now."

He would have argued, but she was right. Besides, it would delay the spell.

At his nod, she continued. "All this--_acting_--won't help. It hasn't. It's just escapism, which you have taken to an extreme because you're an exhibitionist like that."

"It's true," he interjected modestly.

"If you really want to be more comfortable with yourself, try meeting a lot of different people and trying a lot of different activities. Figure out what you like, what you really believe, that sort of thing. Or you could take a shortcut." She tapped her wand. "But all this will do is help you identify your priorities. You have to decide which ones to act on by yourself. You have to shape the person you want to be by yourself. Okay?"

"Thanks, Granger. I'm so very relaxed now," he snapped. She didn't deserve it, but he'd been getting exponentially more nervous and edgy.

She sighed. "Come here, Malfoy."

"What?"

"Sit on the table."

Nerves like bunched springs, he sat next to her. She scooted back until she was sitting behind him. "Relax, Malfoy."

He tried, he really did. He closed his eyes and thought about bunnies and rainbows. He hummed under his breath tunelessly and tried to clear his mind.

When she touched him he jumped.

"Stop that. You're not relaxed." Her hands began kneading his shoulders gently, thumbs pushing at his spine.

Fifteen minutes later, he was as relaxed as a cat on a sunny windowsill. He thought he might melt into a puddle of Malfoy goo, but decided it would be too much effort.

He actually whimpered when she stopped.

"Don't be a brat, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes at him, but he could tell she was pleased. "We haven't actually got much time, so I'll have to alter this a bit. I just hope half an hour's enough."


End file.
